Description: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader. All the angst. Short little drabble that I was playing with, thought rather than letting it eternally sit in my drafts folder (as so many things do!) I’d share it to make up for not being online so much!
Warnings: Mentions of Death
You’d often wondered how your death would find you. A vampire coven teaming up on you, maybe? A misplaced werewolf claw that you never quite managed to dodge? Hopefully you’d never have to be on the receiving end of a hellhound’s jaws, you didn’t plan on selling your soul but who knew what circumstances would come your way?
Most days, it was a simple thought, hoping you’d get past whatever challenges would be thrown at you on the next hunt and the only way it got into your thoughts was wondering if today was the day you slipped up. But it never was.
You’d been trained by the best (in your opinion, at least), it’d been years upon years of hard work, but seeing as you were still standing something had to be going right. There was no denying you were pretty good at what you did, honestly it was the only way you could survive around Sam and Dean, kill or be killed. No room for knocking out the bad guys and leaving them for the cops like some righteous batman-like character, they had to be stopped. End of the line.
But what were hunters if not vigilantes of a sort? It was all illegal, you knew it, hell you knew you’d broken more laws than the average person but it was for a better cause, saving people, right?
The Winchesters believed it wholeheartedly despite the trail of destruction and the lives thrown to pieces in their wake.
When you watched a monster’s life flicker out before your eyes, you wondered if they’d ever paid a thought to how they’d die. Did they expect a hunter to kill them? Maybe they thought they were entirely immortal with what ever god forsaken powers they had - if they stopped for more than two seconds and took a look around at what they were doing, maybe they’d keep their heads down?
Maybe more people should keep their head down because no one ever pays attention to their weaknesses.
All of this rang around your head, echoing off of the past person you once were, the civilian. So today, you decided to think about your weaknesses.
And today was the day you died. Figuratively, at least.
It was a blur but it was necessary. You wrote the letter, sealed with a smear of blood found in the bunker’s store room and placed it on your bed. You left everything behind, a packed bag would give you away in an instant. It was extreme, but the only way you could ever get out of this endless bloodbath that’d become your life was to not have one at all.
Castiel helped you, he covered your tracks and took you to the nearest bus station so you wouldn’t have to use a car. It was possibly the only time you ever hugged him properly and as you pulled away, you saw his eyes brimming with tears, but he understood. You had enough cash to get you to a few towns over and get a little food but from there, who knew?
Who you became was anyone’s guess, but the Winchesters never did… they believed it just as you had always believed them.
All they knew is it was the day Y/N died. And you? You had no more weaknesses, because looking around it was clear that’s what loving the Winchesters would always be.
Pcap Night Cap....Black and White Special Edition...part 11
After a bit of a discussion with one of my dear followers @samuraiwarrior I was encouraged to post my extensive pictures of PCap as the 12th Doctor.
Since this is quite an extensive collection I thought I would use this opportunity to organize my folders so I can find things a bit easier. Because there is nothing worse then knowing you have a great picture but you can’t bloody find it because you forgot where you put it. (yeah that has happened to me many many times)
For the last three Black and White Special Editions Let us admire the handsomeness of PCap as he does various photo shoots and appearances in the beauty of Black and White. I swear that man is sexy in any color…or lack of color.
He has a an Old Hollywood sense of style that is indicative Cary Grant, Fred Astaire and Clark Gable